


no one else here thinks this is a good idea

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-The Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor never stop asking Loki to come home, asking Loki to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one else here thinks this is a good idea

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt at avengerkink that said: Thor never stops asking Loki to come home, asking Loki to stop. And one day... he does. And then he becomes an Avenger and lives in the tower and everyone's happy, especially Thor, and he and Loki are together and YAAAAAAYYYY.

1.

  
  
Thor says: ‘Loki, Son of Odin, Creator of war between the Realms and bringer of chaos and torment to the innocent. I command you to Asgard to face judgement for your crimes and accept whatever punishment may befall you, though it be eternal confinement to the icy wastes where no voices are, and the only sounds be the echoes of your own screams as your chains tear at your immortal sinews...’    
  
Loki’s eyes go wide and worried and incredibly green. His face gets a little crumply.    
  
Thor pulls out the gag with a sigh. His brother makes a little, choking squeak and a bubble of blood drools out of the corner of his mouth.    
  
Thor says: ‘Speak, brother.’   
  
‘Thor,’ Loki whispers. ‘Can we get some mead?’   
  
Thor thinks about a spreading pool of human blood, trickling down through chasms in concrete. Blood-spattered walls and severed arteries. He thinks about a small, white face in the darkness of his childhood bedroom at Asgard, small, white hands cupped around the magic of a cool blue flame.   
  
‘I  _do want a drink_ ,’ he admits, heavily.   
  
*   
  
They’re sitting at a plastic table at a taco stand in the Sonoma desert, picking at a plate of soft pork tacos, served with guacamole, tomato and jalapeno pepper salsa, refried beans and black rice. Also on the table are the Tesseract and a couple of ice-cold bottles of Negro Modelo.   
  
The Tesseract casts an ice-blue glow over Loki’s arm, sending a silvery sheen shivering through his skin, and this makes Thor feel a little strange and unsettled. The night is a spread net of stars behind his brother’s dark head. The Milky Way arcing across the sky, as clear and distinct as a bridge between worlds.    
  
Loki picks out a whole jalapeno and chews on it, his forehead wrinkling in thought. ‘I accept that human culture is not completely worthless...’   
  
Thor snorts and takes a swig of his beer. ‘What I don’t understand is how you could be such a fool as to think you could match the warriors of Earth with an army of mindless Chitauri drones. Human warriors have heart. Their courage is as true as the strongest of Asgard.’    
  
‘It could have worked,’ Loki says, sulkily. He leans forward and rests his chin on his cradled arms, his hair falling into his eyes and his lower lip protruding slightly.    
  
Thor laughs. ‘I remember when you were knee-high to me. You were a tiny, biting, scratching little thing...’   
  
‘I was  _never_  knee-high to you.’   
  
Thor reaches across the table and ruffles a broad, strong hand through Loki’s hair. ‘Little brother,’ he says, teasing.   
  
Loki says: ‘We’re not brothers, Thor.’    
  
_We are brothers_ , Thor thinks, but his voice catches in his chest. He realizes his hand is still stroking through Loki’s hair, silky dark strands slipping between his fingertips.    
  
Loki’s lips turn up at the corners in a slow smile. Then he pulls away gently and gets up from the table, walks into the blackness of the desert.    
  
‘Loki,’ Thor calls, with sudden urgency, ‘I’ll beg Father for mercy. Come home with me.’   
  
Nothing but the whisper in the wind and a starlit sky arching above him.   
  
*

  
2.  
  
‘Your brother—’ Tony yells, jabbing his finger at the screens in the Avengers headquarters at the top of Stark Tower ‘—is driving me fucking  _nuts_.’   
  
‘You let him antagonise you too easily,’ Thor says. He winces internally as he remembers the exact same words spoken in Odin’s booming voice at regular intervals throughout his childhood. Two slightly singed, battered, indignant boys; one fair, one dark; scuffling on the floor of the throne room of Asgard.   
  
‘New York,’ Tony hisses, stabbing at the screens. ‘Tokyo. Frankfurt. Berlin. Washington. Every single major heist, every conspiracy, every theft of classified military technology has your brother’s touch all over it. He’s fucking with us. He isn’t even trying to hide it...’   
  
Scratching his jaw, Thor considers the grainy footage of Loki at the heart of the Pentagon, pale face tilted up towards the camera with a mischievous grin. He glances round at the stern expressions of the rest of the team.  
  
‘He’s bored,’ Thor says helplessly.   
  
*  
  
Thor strolls barefoot along a white-sand beach in the Maldives, his eyes dazzled by the glitter on the blue water. After a while, he spots a dark-haired figure in a linen suit, sipping a lurid pink cocktail with a paper umbrella and reclining on a hotel sun lounger.   
  
He drops down to the sand, glancing at his brother. ‘Stark thinks you should take up golf.’   
  
Loki’s lips quirk up around the straw of his cocktail. He turns his face and examines his brother with his cool blue eyes. His skin is still as pale as snow in the sunlight.   
  
‘Or invent cold fusion,’ Thor continues. ‘Or join the Avengers and fight on the side of good.’  
  
Loki’s smile turns crooked. Setting his cocktail glass in the sand, he folds his arms behind his head. ‘The concept is so absurd I might consider it...’  
  
‘That’s what I told Stark you’d say,’ Thor says, grinning. His smile fades and he lifts a hand to his brother’s face, brushing the backs of his knuckles to Loki’s cheek. Loki’s skin warms and flushes beneath Thor’s touch, a perfect simulacrum of Asgardian heat blooming in the hollow of his white throat.  _Liar, Shapeshifter, Thief._  Thor whispers: ‘I miss you. Come home with me.’  
  
Loki says in a quiet voice: ‘Father will not forgive me.’  
  
‘Our Father is wise.’   
  
‘While I am merely clever,’ Loki says, drily.   
  
A bubble of laughter bursts in Thor’s throat, catching him off guard. His mouth curves and, hardly understanding what he’s doing, he slips his fingers into Loki’s hair and brushes a thumb across Loki’s lips, watching them heat and redden beneath it. Loki stills for a moment, his breath quickening and his green eyes soft and wide. Then his hands come up to cradle Thor’s face in his palms, the tips of his fingers blossoming with sudden warmth and his lips parting with a ragged moan as Thor’s mouth covers his.   


*  
  
Loki tugs away slightly and looks at Thor with a delighted, shivery laugh. 'No one else is going to think this is a good idea...'  
  
Thor tries to hold on to him a little longer. But Loki isn't the kind of creature that you can pin down. And Thor has never had that kind of power.  
  
*

  
3.

  
  
Tony thinks it looks bad because:  
  
(a) Natasha’s down, blood bubbling from a gash in her forehead, and dragging herself out of battle by her fingernails.  
  
(b) The ground is starting to crack like safety glass, fractures spreading outwards from a sphere of pulsing blue light – in the middle of which stands a perturbed-looking demigod whom Tony  _does not trust_  to have a handle on the situation.   
  
And (c) Bruce is waving a Geiger counter in the air and screaming at Clint and Natasha to evacuate  _goddammit!_    
  
Thor’s struggling towards the source of the blue light, holding his hammer in front of him like a shield, an unholy wind rushing through his long blond hair. ‘ _Loki_ ,’ he’s yelling. ‘ _Switch it off. It’s not too late..._ ’ Forked lightning punches a hole in the ceiling. Tony lifts his eyes to a gaping tear in the heavens, clouds swirling around an abyss of unfamiliar stars.   
  
‘Okay, Bruce,’ he mutters, ‘I know you don’t like to do it, but I think it’s time to break this party up.’  
  
A huge, green figure smashes into the sphere of light with a roar. And the blast wave obliterates everything.  
  
*  
  
Most of the team are applying sticking plasters to Natasha and Clint, when Tony glances up to see Thor stumble out of the dust cloud, cradling a limp, half-naked body in his arms. Loki looks small and vulnerable against his brother’s broad chest, his eyes lidded and his dark head nestled in his brother’s neck, one bloodied arm hanging lifelessly down.   
  
Thor kneels, combing the hair from Loki’s face, and brushes a tender kiss to his forehead. Loki shifts in Thor’s arms and Thor kisses him, groaning softly, huge hands caressing the bare skin of his brother’s back and stroking his sides, as if checking for wounds.  
  
Tony muses: ‘You ever get that feeling when you’re planning something that you’re missing some of the variables..?’ He watches Thor’s hands roam over Loki’s body, Loki’s white arms wind around Thor’s neck. Glancing back at the rest of the team, he spreads his palms: ‘Okay people, nothing to see here, let’s move on...’   
  
Natasha says, dreamily: ‘It’s just like Lagos.’  
  
Clint gives her a baffled look: ‘Tash, once again, I have no idea what you’re talking about...’   


  
*

 

4.   
  
Thor comes into his bedroom at the Avengers tower to find Loki sitting on the windowsill, his arms wrapped round his legs and his chin resting on his knees. Loki’s barefoot and dressed in a pair of borrowed sweatpants, a grey T-shirt that’s slightly too tight across his shoulders.   
  
Thor walks over to him and Loki swings his legs down, lets Thor drag his T-shirt up over his head. Thor runs his palms over Loki’s healing skin, then he bends his head down and kisses him. Seventy stories below, the streets of Manhattan are filled with the glitter of late-night traffic.   
  
He pulls Loki over to the bed and pushes him down, tugging his sweatpants off over his ankles. Lifts his knees apart and kneels between them, looking at him – Loki’s sleek, graceful body and his dark hair spread on white sheets. Unbuttoning his own jeans, he shoves them down. His own cock is already too hard, heavy between his legs.   
  
Loki doesn’t make a sound when Thor enters him, but his back arches and his fists tighten around the rails of the bed.   
  
*   
  
Afterwards, with Thor’s swollen lips pressed to the nape of his neck and Thor’s cock, half-soft, still buried in his arse, Loki murmurs, surprised: ‘This isn’t a prison.’   
  
*   
  
Loki sits at the table in the Avengers meeting room, still barefoot, and dressed in a crumpled pair of sweatpants and a grey t-shirt that’s too small for him. He looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.   
  
‘No offense, Stark, Thor... um, Loki...’ Clint protests. ‘But no one else here thinks this is a good idea.’   
  
Nick Fury steeples his hands and examines the creature sitting opposite him.  _Dangerous as hell. Telepathy, dark magic, immortal strength, possible short-range teleportation._  ‘Actually, I’m coming round to it,’ he says.

 


End file.
